Saint John (Sort of)
by 00Geeky00 00Goggles00
Summary: Sherlock is curious. Where is John going every Saturday? Why is he dressed like that? Time to find out himself. Might make you smile or laugh. Might not. '


**So... I don't own any copyrighted material here, I'm pretty sure I don't make a profit off of it, and yada yada yada. This is faintly Christmas themed and imitates the scene in Mistle-Tones where Nick sings Burning Love (because I'm in love with that scene for some reason). ^_^'**

Every Saturday, without fail, John would seem to vanish from 221B. Sherlock might've said it was magic...if he were the commmon, dewey-eyed, Christmas goer. He had thought to ask John before, but the response he always got was  
"I just want some time out of the apartment. Tea is nice but I need some air." Or something along those mundane lines.

He was always wearing a leather jacket and fitted jeans out on those nights. He had his hair gelled to the side and combed. He wore his usual shoes and walked to...wherever he went. Sherlock had seen him come home a few times now, smiling like an idiot. The blond had never dressed for a date, so it couldn't be some other woman that he wouldn't bother to remember. Besides, he would smell like perfume (all those perfumes were god-awful; the detective internally shuddered) if that were the case. He was obviously somewhere and from the slight (but not overpowering) scent of alcohol around him, it was probably a bar. But where? Should he employ the homeless network? No, that wouldn't be worth the effort.

This was one he'd have to pursue himself.

... The Next Saturday ...

Sherlock strolled a good distance behind John. He'd done this before, but then, so had the blond. In fact, they'd done this together and dear God was it fun running through that streets like they did so often. It wasthe best thing to discover new areas in the city. Drug dens, slaughter houses, mob buildings, the like. All of them were so much fun, and he was glad John could enjoy it with him (damned if he'd actually say that). The other man turned a corner and the detective followed, determined to see where his roomate went so regularly. He turned up his coat collar and shoved his hands in his pockets. John bumbled along just fine, somewhat slowing to admire the Christmas lights and the odd Manorah. For goodness sake, how was he not cold? John crossed another frosted street and made a left, walking into a building.

It was a bar alright, but the detective took note of one fact. Saturday was advertised as kareoke night.

...A Few Minutes Later...

Sherlock sat himself in a booth near the bar, burying his nose in a book. He took of his coat, revealing the slightly-too-tight purple shirt underneath. In the past few minutes alone he'd gotten at least three "offers" and a catcall or two, from both men and women. Some other group of friends were screeching something awful on stage, which the tall man was glad he could tune out. John was at the bar with Lastrade and a few friends, making some rather quick progress on a pint of beer. Thy jeered and joked while Sherlock just took a sip of his barely touched Long Island iced tea. He glanced back over as a particularyly loud laugh from John barked out across the crowd.

The brunette's head snapped dutifully back to the book as he comitted John's face in this moment to memory. _Focus Sherlock..._ He tried, but couldn't really resist another glance. His cheeks flushed a bit. _Damn those clothes, and that smile._ He sunk lower in the seat, but continued watching as John bid his friends a hasty goodbye and jogged around the back of the stage.

Sherlock raised an lights dimmed and washed the stage in warm lights. The crowd grew suddenly silent.

"Now put your hands together for, Saint John!" The M.C. announced as the crowd broke into a flurry of cheers. Sherlock watched, dumbfounded, as John didn't just walk, but strutted onto the stage. Really? How interesting. He didn't really seem like the type for kareoke. The detective focused on the stage as John took  
his place. The blond pointed to the DJ and he seemed to understand exactly what track to play.

 ** _Lord Almighty,_**  
 ** _I feel my temperature rising_**  
 ** _Higher, higher_**  
 ** _It's burning through to my soul._**

 _Oh dear lord..._

Sherlock gaped as John sang, to an Elvis Presley song no less. He'd never done that before, and his voice wasn't perfect but he sold it so well. The crowd became even more enthused, leaning towards the  
stage almost as if to touch the army doctor.

 _ **Girl,girl,girl**_  
 _ **You're gonna set me on fire.**_  
 _ **My brain is flaming**_  
 _ **I don't know which way to go.**_

At this point John jumped off the stage and began walking through the excited bar patrons. He winked at a blond sitting by the bar and she stepped towards him, giving the man a flirtatious look. He twirled her against himself, pressing her against him. Lestrade and the rest of the group of friends gave a few slightly intoxicated catcalls. John smirked and continued singing as sheground against him. Sherlock's eye twitched in annoyance and another, slightly more violent feeling. He moved to the bar to get a closer look (a better view) but stayed far enough away not to be seen. He wasn't the cneter of attention anyway.

 _ **Your kisses lift me higher,**_  
 _ **like the sweet song of a choir.**_

John kissed a slightly older woman on the cheek, making her smile even wider and blush a bit.

 _ **You light my morning sky**_  
 _ **With burning love.**_  
 _ **Ooh, ooh, ooh,**_  
 _ **I feel my temperature rising**_  
 _ **Help me, I'm flaming**_  
 _ **I must be a hundred and nine.**_

He moved further into the crowd,still singing and slowly shimmying his jacket off his shoulders, revealing the striped t-shirt that clung to his body beneath. A few members of the crowd reached out to feel his chest and the muscles that were more pronouced under the tight shirt. John rolled into the touch and kept moving to the beat of th music, making the crowd members gasp and call out in excitement.

At this point the blond was nowhere near saintly like his stage name claimed. Sherlock figured out what the feeling was. _Jealousy? Why? It's just John._ The detective blushed a little. _A rather attractive John...no! Focus Sherlock!_  
He unconciously bit his lip and tried (slowly failing) to remain distant.

 _ **Burning, burning, burning**_  
 _ **And nothing can cool me**_  
 _ **I just might turn into smoke**_  
 _ **But I feel fine.**_

John walked over near the bar and Sherlock tried to hide his face as the shorter man approached. The blond pulled a woman with light brown hair toward him and she gladly accepted, moving with him to the fast beat of the song. She danced, shaking her _ahem_ midsection flamboyantly and stopping to roll her body against his. He moved with, taking on a rather attractive smirk. John spun her back to her seat just before he moved on. She looked dizzy and hapy all the same. Sherlock drew out of his fixation on John for a second and rolled his eyes, which widened when he realized the army doctor was closer than he thought.

 _ **'Cause your kisses lift me higher**_  
 _ **Like a sweet song of a choir**_  
 _ **And you light my morning sky**_  
 _ **With burning love.**_

The bartender moved back and sighed, smiling tiredly. John hopped up on top of th bar, gesturing dramatically to the pulse of the music. He walked along the countertop, pointing to different sections of the crowd who cheered in turn. As he looked down to pull someone up to dance with him, he spotted a rather interested and familiar detective. The brunette internally cursed himself for getting caught, especially in this situation.

 _ **It's coming closer**_  
 _ **The flames are now licking my body.**_

John trailed a hand down his chest, leaning into the touch of his own hand. The other hand Skillfully held the microphone and trailed a finger beneath the detective's chin, making him blush quite a lot.

 _ **Won't you help me**_  
 _ **I feel like I'm slipping away**_

The blond pulled the detective on top of the bar as well, holding him by the waist and grinning. He got in front of him, wrapping his arms behind his head and leaned backward slightly. His shirt strained and his head tilted back, pressing his lower half against Sherlock.

 _ **It's hard to breath**_  
 _ **My chest is a heaving.**_

He slid fluidly and sexily down Sherlock's chest, slowly kneeling with his back against the taller man's legs. The detective smiled in spite of himself, the half of his Long Island loosening him up nicely. He let his hands trail up John's chest and shoulders as he moved, enjoying the feel of the slight muscle there. He rolled his arms back a bit, making his chest strain on the shirt even more. The crowd cheered at the duo's actions.  
A few whistles could be heard, especially from the table where Greg and the other few friends sat just below them.

 _ **Lord have mercy**_  
 _ **I'm burning a hole where I lay.**_

John worked his way down until he lay lengthwise on the bar counter, people cheered as he put his free hand up shirt to mimic the thud of his heart. The hand with the microphone dramactically leaned against  
his forehead. As the chorus strarted again he lept to his feet and grabbed Sherlock's hand, guiding him along.

 _ **Your kisses lift me higher,**_  
 _ **like the sweet song of a choir.**_  
 _ **You light my morning sky**_  
 _ **With burning love.**_

The pair ranto the end of the bar and jumped off. The blond spun the brunette around once and dipped him as the final note was sung, and the music ended. They froze for a second, faces only a centimeter away from each other. Both blushed and grinned like idiots, panting a little bit. John closed the last of any sort of distance separating the two.

Their lips touched gently, John's smaller lips stroking across Sherlock's full ones. Sherlock reached up to grip John's hair, getting rid of the gelled look and mussing it up. They broke for air and finally heard the joyful roar from the audience. The army doctor released the detective and hopped back onto the stage, recieving several claps on the back along the way. Sherlock tried not to look at the suggestive smiles shot towards him by both bar patrons and Lestrade.

...

Back at the flat, John sat on the couch with Sherlock laying across his laps. He ran his hands through the taller man's hair, making him hum in content.

"So how long have you-" John began to ask. Sherlock cut him off.

"One year, two months, and twelve days." The brunette shifted onto his back, pressing his hands together in front of his mouth and closing his eyes.

"Why were you at the bar tonight anyway?" The blond asked, genuinely curious. Another small hum as he combed through his locks.

"I was bored. You were less boring and being mysterious."

"Mysterious?"

A sigh. "Yes, John. Dressing differently, going to some unknown bar, avoiding it when I ask? Even I know that's suspicious."

John sighed. He really couldn't blame the man. He _was_ a bit shifty about it.

"I'm glad you did." He said shrugging.

"As am I." Sherlock stated, sitting up.

He looked at John who looked back with bright eyes. The shorter man leaned forward and captured the detective's lips for the second time that night, gently stroking the pale flesh with his own. Sherlock responded, sealing his full lips to John's thinner ones. The blond reached up to weave his fingers into Sherlock's hair and tugged a little at the strands. Sherlock moaned quietly and sent vibration through the kiss that left both of them feeling tingly. John moved so he was pressed flush against Sherlock, breaking the kiss for only a second before resuming with more intensity. The room was warm as they both began breathing heavier.

The blond nipped the other's bottom lip and lapped at the fading bite-mark. The brunette gasped when his top lip was nipped and John took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He sucked on the detective's bottom lip, making it swell with dark pink pulled away to catch their breath, leaning their foreheads against each other. Both were grinning madly as they stared at each other and tried to catch their breath.  
It only got better from there.

 **I'm such a tease. :-3**


End file.
